


There's Nothing Wrong With Me (This is How I'm Supposed to Be)

by AnAceOfHearts



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Episode: s03e12 The Coming of Arthur, First Kiss, I knew most of them but it was still very enlightening, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), POV Arthur, POV Third Person, Who knew?, a rewrite of 3x12 of sorts, also the author continues to attempt to write romance despite being extremely asexual, and then I started writing this at 2am and it was only supposed to be a drabble about that one scene, and then it turned into a full on magic reveal fic a n d a them getting together fic, anyways enjoy!!, for some reason I was only capable of writing this after 1am so I wrote this over three nights, ig my knowledge of how to insult people in British is somewhat limited, lmao I ran out of insults for the two of them to trade so I had to look up British insults, no beta we die like lesbians, oh yeah I kinda stole a bit of dialogue from the ep but only a bit, this was originally a little 'what if' scenario in my brain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24697870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAceOfHearts/pseuds/AnAceOfHearts
Summary: “No volunteers?” the man asked again, as if that would prompt someone to step up. “Well, I shall have to choose one of you myself, then.” Arthur felt the man’s eyes drag across the small mass of men. “How about…” His stomach began to sink when his gaze landed in his direction. “You?” His finger stopped right next to Arthur, and his stomach plummeted. Like the rest of the prisoners, he looked for the man who was unfortunate enough to be picked - although he already knew who it was.Merlin blinked at Jarl, as if he couldn’t believe he was chosen out of all the strong, warrior-type men he was surrounded by. “Me?”Jarl put his hands on his hips. “Death or glory, boy? You should be honoured.”“But, I—” He started before Arthur cut him off.“I volunteer!”~~~Alternatively, where that one scene in 3x12 plays out a little gayer and instead of Arthur dragging Merlin to save him, he goes the kind of Hunger-Games-I-volunteer-as-tribute route and ends up fighting Merlin instead of Gwaine in the slave trader's arena.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 283





	There's Nothing Wrong With Me (This is How I'm Supposed to Be)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even really know where this came from. I had the little 'what if??' scenario in my head after I rewatched the ep and it kinda just stayed with me and I was procrastinating my other WIP and was having one of my after-midnight productivity moments,,, and then the first half of this was written.
> 
> Also holy shit?? This is only the second thing I've started writing since early November (for some reason I just,,, didn't write a single word of creative writing from early November until like mid-May) and the first new content I've published on any platform since like August??
> 
> The title is from The Jesus of Suburbia by Green Day because I am ~terrible~ at titles and this kinda fit
> 
> The obligatory I-dont-own-merlin-lmao-if-i-did-itd-be-gayer disclaimer

“Right, you filthy vermin.” The slave trader (Jarl, perhaps?) said, looking down at them in more ways than one. “Which one of you is ready to face my champion in the arena?” No one answered him immediately - and not that he gave them much time to. 

“No volunteers?” the man asked again, as if that would prompt someone to step up. “Well, I shall have to choose one of you myself, then.” Arthur felt the man’s eyes drag across the small mass of men. “How about…” His stomach began to sink when his gaze landed in his direction. “You?” His finger stopped right next to Arthur, and his stomach plummeted. Like the rest of the prisoners, he looked for the man who was unfortunate enough to be picked - although he already knew who it was. 

Merlin blinked at Jarl, as if he couldn’t believe he was chosen out of all the strong, warrior-type men he was surrounded by. “Me?”

Jarl put his hands on his hips. “Death or glory, boy? You should be honoured.”

“But, I—” He started before Arthur cut him off.

“I volunteer,” he yelled up at their captor, subconsciously placing himself in front of Merlin and in between his servant and the dangerous slave trader that was trying to put him into harm’s way - something that definitely did not escape the man’s notice.

“You _volunteer_?” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, it’s a little late for that.”

“Well, you wanted a volunteer, so here I am. Unless your idea of entertainment is your champion crushing nothing but weaklings like this?” He heard Merlin protest weakly behind him, and he stomped on his foot as discreetly as possible to shut him up. He hoped his face was his regular mask of arrogance and not the complete and utter panic he felt inside. He couldn’t let Merlin fight this “champion,” he just _couldn’t_ — 

Jarl squinted down at him. “You think _you_ can offer a better contest?”

“I guarantee it.” 

“Arthur, _no,_ ” Merlin said quietly behind him, as if Arthur was a dog - or that he'd actually listen.

The slave trade laughed again. “Very well. Your friend will not fight my champion today.” Arthur felt himself release the breath he didn’t know he'd been holding. “Instead, he will fight _you_.”

* * *

Rough hands unceremoniously threw Arthur and Merlin into the “arena,” which was really just a round area bordered by other men hungry to see the two prisoners fight. Arthur almost couldn’t hear himself _think_ , the crowd was roaring and cheering so loud.

“Gentlemen,” Jarl said, rising from his throne and immediately quieting the roars from the men around them. “The rules are simple. One man lives, one man dies.” Loud, raucous cheering rose up from the crowd once more; ending as soon as it started. “If you cannot or will not off your opponent, I shall kill you both.” More cheers rang out across the room as Jarl tossed two (quite shoddily made, if Arthur did say so himself) swords in front of himself and Merlin.

Arthur looked at Merlin and saw the same fear and apprehension shown in his face as he felt himself, which was comforting, in some strange way. He then looked down at the swords and snatched one up for himself, delaying swinging at Merlin until he was sure that his servant could parry it. 

Merlin did parry his strike, although it was rather slow and weak for his tastes, and he wasted as much time as he could before launching another strike, backhand this time, and then another one overhead as slow as he could without raising suspicion. His next strike caught Merlin’s blade so that he could pull Merlin towards himself.

“Take it easy, will you?” Merlin ground out as he was pulled against Arthur, trying to pull his blade out from under Arthur’s.

Arthur shot him a look that he hoped said, _keep fighting, you arse._ “It’s got to look _real_ , hasn’t it?”

Merlin shot him a glare in return that he knew meant he understood, so he finally leveraged his sword so that Merlin was shoved away from him and into the vicious crowd. They shoved him back with an equal amount of aggressiveness, and Arthur attacked him with several strikes he knew Melin couldn’t keep blocking; his parries were already becoming progressively weaker.

Arthur let Merlin strike him this time, and when he did, he responded in another blow that pulled Merlin towards him.

“I refuse to kill you,” Arthur grumbled as Merlin’s elbow nearly caught him in the face.

“If you don’t, he’ll kill the both of us, clotpole,” Merlin shot back.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Merlin fixed him with another snarky glare and attempted to move away from him so that he could launch another strike, but somehow, the _bumbling idiot_ managed to trip over the flagstones, lose his sword, _and_ trip Arthur in the progress.

Arthur thanked the gods that the way it happened looked as if Merlin lost his balance and that Arthur used the chance to try to pin him on the ground.

He landed on top of Merlin, both of them grasping at each other’s faces half-heartedly, trying to get the upper hand. The crowd went wild, rushing forwards to get as close to the two fighters as possible.

“What next?” asked Merlin.

“There was no ‘next,’” He scoffed, but before Merlin could respond, Jarl pushed through to the edge of the bloodthirsty crowd.

“Finish him!” Bellowed Jarl.

Merlin shot him a panicked look and a lightbulb seemingly went off in his head as it was replaced with a resigned expression. “Please don’t hate me,” He muttered, and before Arthur could say anything like _I could never hate you_ or something monumentally stupid, like _I couldn’t hate you, I love you,_ Merlin muttered something else, powerful, foreign words that automatically sent a spike of fear into his heart. “ _Forbærne æltæwelice!_ ” Sure enough, his eyes glowed gold for a few seconds, and suddenly, the flames on the torches doubled and tripled in size, lighting the ropes hanging from the ceiling on fire.

The men in the crowd scattered, causing chaos to erupt in the room and giving them what would be the perfect chance to escape, had Arthur been able to do anything but stare at his manservant in complete and utter shock.

“ _Get up_ , you daft twat!” Merlin nearly yelled, rolling out from under Arthur and dragging him to his feet.

He let himself be dragged along and through the crowds, his mind still processing what had happened in the arena. _Merlin has magic?_ Was just one of the many thoughts that were pressing against his head, desperate to escape. The only thought that was more pressing than that was _Merlin lied to me, has been lying to me, for the whole time I’ve known him_. And then: _But did I ever really know him?_

He must’ve been more lost in thought than he realized because soon he was running into the forest, Melin dragging him along, with Gwaine at his side, holding the swords they both dropped after their “fight.” They kept on going until Merlin was wheezing so hard he could barely go on, and Gwaine forced them to take a break. 

Without waiting for any of their party to catch their breath (including himself), his anger overwhelmed him and he stalked over to Merlin and got into his face, nearly shoving him up against a tree. “What the _bloody hell_ was that, Merlin?” He was so close to Merlin that he could see every single little microexpression on his face; from the total fear that flashed in his eyes like the gold that appeared when he did magic to the way his throat moved as he gulped heavily.

“Arthur, I—” Merlin started, his voice quiet and shaky, but Gwaine interrupted him.

“Arthur, I think you need to calm down. Whatever Merlin did, I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding.” Gwaine said behind him, his voice low and calming, as if he was trying to soothe a frightened horse.

Arthur whirled around to face him. “‘A big _misunderstanding_ ’? The fact that Merlin is a sorcerer is a little bit different from your bar brawls, _Gwaine_. Don’t try to involve yourself with things that don’t concern you.”

To his merit, Gwaine looked taken aback as well. “ _Merlin_? A _sorcerer_?”

Before he could explode any further on the other man, Merlin interrupted them both. “I was born with it!” Yelled Merlin, the desperation and hurt coloring his words so much that Arthur pivoted back around and took a step back.

He said quietly, “ _What_?”

“I never _chose_ to practice magic,” Merlin tried again, his voice its usual level now. “I’ve been levitating things since I could walk. Before I even said my first words, I’d already nearly set my mother’s rocking chair on fire.”

“That’s not possible,” he muttered. All sorcerers _chose_ to practice magic, and if not for evil purposes, they soon were corrupted by it anyways. If there was one thing his father taught him, that would be it. “Have you just been conning me all this time?” _Making me fall madly in love with you?_ He refrained from adding. “What was your plan? To gain my trust until I became king and then manipulate me towards your own goals?”

“Are you kidding me?” His friend - no, the _sorcerer_ \- scoffed. “I’ve only ever used my magic to save your royal arse.”

“Bollocks. I would’ve known, I would’ve _realized_.”

Merlin let out a bitter laugh, one that was so different from the one that Arthur was used to hearing that he nearly couldn’t believe that Merlin could make that noise. “I’ve been saving your arse with magic since before I was your manservant.” He started counting names off on his hand. “Lady Helen, Sir Valiant, Sofia and Aulric, Nimueh - several times, mind you, Cornelius Sigan, Morgause - every _single_ time she shows her face, the Great damned Dragon, just off the top of my head.”

Arthur’s jaw hung open. Not that it dropped open dramatically, like in the bard’s stories, but he opened it to ask a question or just to say anything, but nothing came out and it just opened wider and wider. He tried to say something several times, to no avail, before he finally managed to get a few words out. “You _bloody idiot_.”

“Excuse me?” Squawked Merlin indignantly.

“You blatantly used magic in _Camelot_ , of all places, so close to the _king_ , who executes anyone _rumoured_ of consorting with a sorcerer?”

Merlin scratched the back of his head, an almost sheepish look crossing his face. “I—Yeah.”

“Why on _Earth_ would you do that?” He took a step forward again, bringing him nearly nose-to-nose with Merlin.

“To protect you! Yeah, at first, it was because it was my destiny; I could never fathom how anyone could ever stand you, but then it was because I couldn’t bear you getting hurt when I could’ve protected you!” By the end of his tirade, he was nearly shouting and his breath was coming quicker - well, quicker than it was before, with the deep breaths they were still taking from their speedy exit from the decrepit castle.

Arthur chose to ignore the first half of Merlin’s rant, and he got a rather warm feeling in his chest from the second half. “Did you ever stop to think that I feel the same way? That if I had to stand and watch you get burnt on the pyre because my father executes everyone _suspected_ of using sorcery that _I_ would never forgive myself for not doing everything I could to protect you and that you got caught using sorcery because of me?”

Arthur watched as a myriad of emotions played out on Merlin’s face; first shock, then disbelief, and finally a look that was filled with such intense fondness that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself.

Merlin’s voice was so quiet that he had to lean in a fraction more to hear him, enough so that their noses  _ were _ touching, now, less than a hairbreadth of space between them. “You would?”

He let out a little huff of breath. “ _ Yes _ . I thought I made that pretty damn clear—” 

Apparently, Merlin had no intentions of letting him finish that sentence, as he moved his face forward  _ a little bit more _ until their lips were touching and slotted together and suddenly Arthur was kissing back and he pushed his servant - no, Merlin wasn’t his servant right now, he was his best friend and (hopefully soon) his lover - against the tree. He’d be damned if he said this wasn’t the best kiss he’d ever had and nothing else mattered except the two of them - that is, until Gwaine let out a shrill wolf-whistle behind him.

He broke the kiss and let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Dear God, we forgot about Gwaine.”

Merlin let out a small laugh as well, and Gwaine’s wolf-whistle made way for cheering and laughing from the third man. “Oh,  _ bugger off _ , Gwaine!” Merlin complained, somehow sounding both defeated  _ and _ lighthearted at the same time. Gwaine - predictably - wasn’t deterred, and his laughter just grew louder.

“Just…go collect some firewood or something!” Arthur ordered him, not bothering to turn his face away from Merlin’s.

“Whatever you say, Princess,” Gwaine drawled, and though Arthur couldn’t see him, he was positive that the man added a mocking bow to punctuate his statement before stalking off into the woods. Once he was sure that Gwaine was definitely out of earshot, he leaned his forehead into Merlin’s and started laughing, with Merlin soon joining him.

“Where did we manage to find him again?” He muttered.

“He saved your sorry arse, as I remember it,” Merlin retorted playfully.

“My arse did  _ not _ need saving!”

“Oh, it most definitely—”

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.” Arthur almost didn’t let him finish that one word by resuming their kiss, relishing in the fact that he’d finally figured out a reliable way to shut his best friend up.

*^*^*^*

**Author's Note:**

> I used the Merlin wiki for the spell, they have every single spell used in every episode spelt both phonetically and in Middle English/Greek, depending on what spell you're looking up! The wiki as a whole is pretty amazing and extensive, y'all should definitely go check it out!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!! Please leave some kudos and/or comments for your local sleep-deprived author if you liked it :)


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